


what if this storm ends (and I don't see you)

by mostlikelydefinentlymad



Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Blood Drinking, M/M, Nightmares, Simon Lewis Lives at Hotel Dumort, Simon Lewis Needs a Hug
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-29
Updated: 2017-11-29
Packaged: 2019-02-08 08:47:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,249
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12860997
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mostlikelydefinentlymad/pseuds/mostlikelydefinentlymad
Summary: Simon pushes back on his feet and gracefully pounces on top of an empty table. He crouches with his knees bent and hands braced on the surface. A primal urge surges through him and he sniffs the air.His first victim tastes of vanilla and nicotine.





	what if this storm ends (and I don't see you)

 

 

Simon's fangs break through his gums and crowd his mouth. They push against the soft inner flesh of his lips and a rush of relief floods through him. Every dying vein and nerve in his body tingle with hunger and anticipation. He's a feral unleashed beast with blades for teeth and needle pointed claws. 

His hunting ground is a packed coffee house that a more civilized, a  _human_ Simon, used to frequent. He craved freshly roasted coffee and warm scones before. And there is  _always_ a before. Every nightmare is the end of a dream. His  _after_ is bags of blood and a separation from the living. The earth takes but she does not give back. 

Simon pushes back on his feet and gracefully pounces on top of an empty table. He crouches with his knees bent and hands braced on the surface. A primal urge surges through him and he sniffs the air. His first victim tastes of vanilla and nicotine.

From there it's a cacophony of dying heartbeats and horrified screams.

He plucks off mundanes like ripe grapes fresh from the vine. Delicious hot blood wells up in his mouth and leaves handprints on t-shirts and dresses.

His veins sing with pleasure.

A middle aged man in a baseball cap dies with his phone in hand. 91- cut off.

"Monster," a person in a floral shirt sobs. They taste of Summer flowers and green tea.

"Simon," a male voice exclaims. Increasingly desperate,  "Simon.  _Baby.._ _."_

He seizes up and his fangs retract. Reality settles around him like a house on fire or - panicked screams. Tables and chairs are saturated, bodies are haplessly thrown aside. It's a massacre and he's the last man standing.

He dry heaves and trips over a high heel as the voice calls his name again.

"Simon.  **Wake up**."

His eyelids flutter. 

 

 

Someone was muttering under their breath about Camille and cursing heatedly in spanish. They gently wiped down his forehead with a cool cloth and gradually came into focus. Raphael's eyes were dark and hair in disarray as he leaned over Simon. He didn't smell of death and vanilla and his skin wasn't dripping blood when Simon grabbed his wrist. 

"Raphael?"

The elder vampire immediately straightened but Simon kept ahold of him. Raphael wouldn't allow him to sink to that level. DuMort's vampires controlled themselves and bloodlust was a thing of the past. However, if he released Raphael, Simon would become one of Camille's orphaned monsters. He'd lose his humanity and endanger the downworld by exposing them. He'd-

"Breathe, Simon."

Dead, his brain reminded him. Vampires don't have to breathe. Somehow, that made it worse. He gasped and clawed at his throat. 

"Baby, take a small breath."

The nickname became a focal point. He inhaled and held it for ten seconds. Exhaled. Raphael talked him through it until Simon could breathe again without the room spinning. 

His throat felt sore and scratchy. 

"I'm going to the main hall," Raphael stated. "You need a drink." 

Don't go, Simon thought. 

He hadn't realized he'd balled up a hand in Raphael's shirt until the elder vampire stood. Reluctantly, he released the other. 

"I'll be right back," Raphael assured him. 

Simon nodded and sat up in bed. He examined his hands and clothes for proof of his crime but only found sweat. When he was younger, he had nightmares about falling to his death from a skyscraper or dying of an incurable disease. The underlying theme hadn't changed since his unholy rebirth but it'd intensified. 

Raphael returned with a glass of water and a teacup of blood as quickly as he'd left. 

"I wasn't sure which one you'd prefer," he explained. 

Simon was grateful he'd disguised the red liquid just in case it might've triggered another anxiety attack. Under the pomade and what Simon referred to as the murder stalk, Raphael was kind and considerate. 

He switched on a lamp and a warm yellow glow chased the shadows from the elder vampire's face. His cheek had a pillow imprint and his white t-shirt was damp with Simon's sweat and tears making him appear younger. No one should be allowed to make bedhead look that sexy. 

Simon chose the water and Raphael placed the teacup on the far end of the bedside table. 

The shadow world saw Raphael as a cunning leader who was capable of making Simon's nightmares a reality. After all, he'd overthrown his own leader. Downworlders in general were treated as if they were lower life forms that dared exist within their vicinity. 

You appreciate humility more when you're forced to prove yourself. 

Raphael is the antipode of their degrading stereotypes.

He's training Simon to accept that it's okay to take pride in who and what you are even if it gives you nightmares. Vampires can be the type of person who sacrifices sleep to comfort a sobbing fledgling and try to make blood more palatable. The shadow world would rather stigmatize. 

"You were screaming," Raphael explained.

 

And you were raging about my sire, Simon thought. 

 

Even Clary didn't know about the nightmares nor had he confided in her about the many ways Camille destroyed him. Raphael was right. In most regards vampires and shadowhunters would never be equals. She only half listened when he mentioned DuMort anyway. 

She'd never once griped about Camille. 

"Nightmare," he replied, head lowered in embarrassment. 

Raphael seemed to understand that pity would only exacerbate the issue. He offered Simon the cloth and sat beside of him on the bed. Simon swallowed a drink of water and another. His throat was sore and parched as though he'd been screaming - or growling threats at mundanes.

"I don't want to talk about it," he added hoarsely. "Can you distract me...please." 

Raphael could rant about Camille in fifteen different languages or openly plot shadow world domination for all Simon cared. He wasn't ready to face the dark alone again. 

Raphael pursed his lips together and for one terrifying second, Simon was sure he'd leave him to his demons. But then he took the glass from Simon's hand, placed it on the table and nudged the other over. 

"Scoot," he said.

Okay then.

Simon usually put up a fight and opposed most of Raphael's demands but exceptions could be made. 

Raphael lifted the blanket and stretched out under it.  

Was this where the nightmare reversed and became a dream? A sexier dream featuring a hot spanish vampire king in his bed and no carnage? He'd be cool with that.

Raphael frowned and the happy naughty thoughts in Simon's head poofed. 

"Remote?" 

"What?"

"The television remote, Simon. You wanted a distraction?"

Don't need it when I've got you, Simon thought.

Raphael's frown deepened.

Or he could find the remote. 

* * *

 

 

Simon's arms are outstretched under a New York sunrise. Golden rays caress every inch of his skin and light him up from the inside. The warmth reminds him of hot cocoa on a cold Winter day or the heat of early Autumn with the chilly bite of frost in the morning. 

He hums with pleasure and wraps his arms around himself, trapping the delicious sunshine. There's a nip in the air and he savors that also.

And then the sky itself  _moves._

His eyes fly open.

 

 

It's not the sun he's tangled up in.

The chill he felt was a cold nose against his neck.

 _Raphael_ is in his arms and their legs are intertwined. Bare skin to bare skin where pajama bottoms have rode up in sleep. Simon has one hand on Raphael's hip (under his shirt) and the other folded up between them. 

He's afraid to move. When Raphael wakes he'll mumble something vague and wander off to hide behind a designer suit, leaving Simon confused and frustrated. They'll avoid one another and the next time Simon has a bad dream, he'll suffer through the aftermath alone. 

For now, he won't take this moment for granted. He'll hold Raphael until he inevitably comes to his senses and go about his day like it doesn't hurt Simon worse than any nightmare ever could.

Clary wouldn't visit and ask why he was acting different. Raphael would avoid him. Simon wouldn't confide in Luke. 

_No one would talk about it._

 

He relaxed and pulled Raphael deeper into the embrace. 

 

It's cheesy but being this close to him made Simon feel like everything he had ever lost had been returned tenfold. He thought he was in love with Clary until Raphael came along. His future bloodsucking almost boyfriend chose the most dramatic introduction  _ever_ and had Lily dangle Simon from a bridge. Then there was the dagger and  _baby_ and Simon's fate was sealed. 

Sweet and fiery isn't his type.

Dangerously sexy and soft is. 

He skimmed his fingers up Raphael's side and grinned when the other inched even closer. His hair tickled Simon's chin and Simon caught the scent of honeysuckle and what was that? Something light and sweet. He had dreamed of Summer and warmth because that's what Raphael smelled like.

Sunshine.

Mm, perfect.

And his _body._  

Simon couldn't keep his hands to himself. 

From what he could see, Raphael's lean golden muscle made up for his short stature. Simon grazed a hand over the curve of his waist and up to dance over his ribs. His skin almost felt  _warm._

Just then, Simon felt a pain in his gums.

His fangs were exposed and this was _so bad_. If Raphael woke up and Simon gave him a happy-go-lucky-I just slept with my hot clan leader- smile without thinking, he'd know everything. Why couldn't Simon have a regular boner like most guys? Why the fangs and theatrics? 

He closed his mouth and tried the techniques Raphael had been teaching him.

Breathe. 

Picture Bob Ross painting happy little friends for happy little trees or playing with domesticated pocket squirrels.

Okay, he hadn't put it that way per say but it was implied. 

Something went wrong and instead of pthalo blue he pictured rich brown eyes and biting into Raphael's neck. But unlike the nightmare he'd had before, Raphael wasn't writhing in agony. He was lying pliant in Simon's arms while Simon alternated kissing along his jaw and neck and slowly sucking on his skin. 

_'Harder, Simon...right there.'_

Gums throbbing and fangs hungrily seeking- Simon tilted his head and leaned down a few inches. His breath ghosted over Raphael's neck and he could  _smell_ the blood in his veins. 

_'Drink from me...'_

He'd know the taste of Raphael hundreds of years from now. Simon Lewis; the hopeless lovestruck idiot strung out on one beautiful boy. The cliche vampire who fell in love too fast and spent an eternity searching for the one he loved in every face. Guys like that never win. He's meant for lonely nights and falling for people he cannot have.

Raphael shifted in his sleep.

Simon's fangs left twin indents in his neck but G-d help him, he couldn't pierce the skin. Not like this. 

"Simon," Raphael called out sleepily.

 

Shit.

 

How was he supposed to talk his way out of this one? Maybe if he politely explained (lied) that his hand was up Raphael's shirt and his fangs were on his throat because of a dream, Raphael wouldn't kill him. Or he'd have him killed humanely but not by him. At least he'd get to enjoy actual sunshine for a few seconds before he died. 

Disturbingly, the last option hurt. For once, it wasn't because he was afraid of dying. 

"Yeah?"

"It's not polite to bite before the first date," Raphael replied, sounding more coherent than a drowsy vampire should. 

Simon sprung back and threw every excuse had into the ring. If Raphael kicked him out it'd be  _hello institute_ and _Meet my new friend. His name is Downworlder Di_ _scrimination_ or the extended edition:  _You can't sit with us because you eat blood for breakfast._ No thanks. That place made his skin crawl. 

After the fifth excuse, yes he was counting, he realized Raphael was still in his arms but staring at him now as though he were an idiot. Fondness too but mostly,  _Simon is an idiot who talks too much. Blah blah blah._

"Are you finished?" Raphael asked. 

Simon apologized one more time and tried to extricate himself.

Raphael locked a leg around his before he could leave and tilted Simon's chin up until they were eye to eye. 

"Baby," he said tenderly. "There's a reason I haven't moved."

"Is it because my hand is still up your shirt? Which, by the way, was a total accident. Or- or you haven't moved because you're dreaming up how to kill me in the neatest way possible because you don't want to ruin your jacket? That's pretty reasonable. I-I'll try not to bleed too much so the dry cleaners won't be suspicious." 

Raphael's eyes dropped to Simon's mouth and back up again.

_Oh._

That's why.

"I haven't moved because I  _want_ to be here," Raphael clarified. 

The finger on Simon's chin found his jawline and followed it up to cup his cheek. Their noses bumped and the small bed melted away. There were no doors or darkened windows. Nothing tangible existed outside of the safe bubble they'd created together. 

"You do?"

"I do."

Raphael leaned in.

The kiss was an explosion of sunshine and honeysuckle. The saccharine sweetness on Simon's tongue, Raphael flipping them and pressing him into the mattress - it was surreal. 

This was a dream he could live in. 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this instead of sleeping and (as usual) I'm not terribly happy with it and I feel like it's missing Something but I'm posting it anyway instead of deleting.
> 
> please send our pan baby vampire lots of hugs ❤
> 
> p.s. I've completely rewritten this one like 6x. yikes.


End file.
